


persistence

by midwesterosi



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Humor, Romance, Secret Santa, helsa, helsa secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midwesterosi/pseuds/midwesterosi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>keep running up that hill. helsa. one shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	persistence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [diggingthegrave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diggingthegrave/gifts).



> A/N: This is a sort of fanfiction doodle. Dedicated to the lovely diggingthegrave for helsa secret santa on tumblr 2014!!

 

 

 

“Would her majesty care to dance?”

If she had sensed his approach Elsa might not have reacted so dramatically. As it was, none save the Southern Prince noticed the sudden stiffening of her spine or the flutter of the furious pulse under the column of her pale throat.

Inwardly, the Snow Queen seethed with righteous indignation. She wanted to tear at him, to claw away his callous smirk, to cut him down with so many little words as had done to her that day on the ice. Outwardly, she was as cool and removed as the wind on a winter's night.

“Of course not.”

xxxxx

His first missive arrived just after the last of the spring melt and in time for the anniversary of her second year as queen. When she caught sight of it separated and setting so carefully away from the other mail she was sure Kai had been sorting her letters again and wondered what it was about this particular piece that made it such a pressing matter. It was barely more than a slip of paper addressed to her alone, which was odd onto itself. Generally, she received news concerning the realm at large not informal correspondences.

Steeling herself, she flipped it over and carefully regarded the seal, immediately wary when the familiar sigal of the Southern Isles was revealed. There had been several less-than-civil letters between their nations. However, this wasn't her majesty's stamp and without noting the roman numerals for 13 Elsa knew with little doubt the letter's source. The only sound in the sudden silence was that of paper creased by tense fingers.

xxxxx

_HRM Queen Elsa of Arendelle -_

_Let me start off by saying, quite frankly, how surprised I am you didn't throw this letter out as soon as you realized the sender. Of course, I'm very glad you didn't or I wouldn't have an opportunity to tell you what an absolute delight it was to see you at the Lady Katherine's formal, loath as as I'm sure you were to attend. Or perhaps you only seemed so in my presence. You'll have to forgive me if I remark that you don't really strike me as the sort for large gatherings of a frivolous nature._

_Of course, one day I hope to change your mind about dancing, but for now I would be more than content with even a line of correspondence._

_Congratulations on your second year on the throne. I mean that, honestly, if you can believe me. I hear Arendelle is doing quite well._

_Sincerely,_  
_HRH ADM Prince Hans Westerguard of the Southern Isles_

Elsa didn't know what to make of it. Somehow, she had expected something more – from both the letter and herself. For all the distance it had traveled she had certainly expected he would have more to say. He wrote as though they were old friends with no statement of his intentions and little prompt to write further. _'He said one line . . .'_

xxxxx

Prince Hans smiled when he saw who the letter was from, more than a little surprised in spite himself. His grin only widened as he read:

_HRH ADM Prince Hans Westerguard of the Southern Isles -_

_What are you playing at?_

_Regards,_  
_HRM Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

xxxxx

“Would her majesty care to dance?” Elsa vaguely wondered how he kept sneaking up on her like that; especially when she had been looking for him this time, well aware he was to be in attendance at the party. He had told her so in his last letter.

What had started as a few lines quickly grew in volume until page after page was filled. Long rambling epics on philosophy, politics, even childhood anecdotes, but never once did either of them mention their shared past. Once or twice, Elsa had tried asking _'Why?'_ or _'Are you sorry?'_ but every version of these questions ended up in the fireplace.

It was strange to see him now after months of correspondence. He seemed so real and visceral, something she could reach out and touch if she so desired. She decided she did not. “I don't dance.”

xxxxx

_HRM Queen Elsa -_

_Alas, spurned by my lady once again! Of course, it was lovely to see you, in spite your indifference to my every charm. I think you would take to dancing beautifully if you'd only give it a try. Is it a matter of skill or preference for which you refrain?_

_I'm afraid I don't have long to write today. I'll try to send a proper missive later this week though only the tides and traders can tell when it will be in your hands._

_All the best,_  
_HRH Prince Hans_

xxxxx

_HRH Prince Hans -_

_I actually ended up receiving both your letters within mere days of one another. I must admit the wait was rather anti-climatic. I barely had time to properly pine. I suspect the silk barons must be much busier this time of year than the merchant vessels or, at least, they took a more circuitous route to my realm. Perhaps due to the pirates you mentioned._

_Goodness! I must admit I sometimes worry for you, facing such fiends, but then I remember you are the worst rogue I know and the fear subsides. At any rate, I don't envy how busy you are with such dangers and implore you to take care of yourself. I would hate for my next missive from the Southern Isles to be news of your demise due to sheer stubbornness. Though I have to wonder if her majesty, your honored mother long may she reign, would expect me to be distressed or relieved. I assure you it would be a healthy mixture of the two. Joking aside, please be careful._

_I've been fairly busy myself, with much less pressing issues than pirates, though from the way my cabinet has been acting you'd think we faced the Flying Dutchman herself. They want to throw a gala to celebrate my third year as queen and invite all the neighboring dignitaries. I think they hope the ambassadors will have single men in their company. The whole affair is already endlessly annoying. That being said, I very much hope you'll come! I still have to talk to my sister about it and I doubt I'll dance, but it would still be nice to see you all the same._

_Oh! I suppose you think you're very clever with all your teasing about dancing. Of course, I learned the same as any other child of means when I was young, though, in my case, it was an extremely awkward affair. My parents had a mannequin brought in and paid my instructor handsomely for his discretion on the matter I imagine. My mother taught me a few steps as well. She was a beautiful dancer._

_I suppose I don't dance out of preference more than anything. It always makes me feel as though I'm in the spotlight, like my every move is being judged._

_Please keep in touch, if only so I know the pirates haven't gotten to you._

 

_Best wishes,_  
_HRM Queen Elsa_

xxxxx

“Anna,” Elsa began slowly, trying to find just the right words to tell her sister what she wanted without getting the princess too upset, but it seemed like once she started talking there was no stopping, “there is something I wanted to ask you. Well, something I wanted to tell you. Something I wanted to tell you before I ask you -”

“Whoa, Elsa,” Anna held up a steadying hand, “ you're starting to sound like me. Calm down. Is this about your super-secret pen-pal?”

This question did little to calm Elsa's nerves. “You know about him?”

“Aha! So it is a him. I figured,” Anna's expression bordered on triumphant, “And I don't don't who it is. I tried asking Kai, but he wouldn't tell me so it couldn't be cousin Rapunzel or someone boring like that so . . . ?”

“So what?” Elsa was having second thoughts. After all, what would people say when the traitorous Southern Prince of all people showed up at her party?

“So who is it?” Anna seemed to sense her sister's reluctance and reached out a gentle hand, “You can tell me, Elsa.”

Elsa almost blurted out what felt like excuses in her heart: _'I think he's changed,'_ and _'We're friends now,'_ and, worst of all, _'I was lonely,'_ but instead all she said was, “It's Hans.”

Anna's expression was absolutely non-plussed for what felt like forever before she burst out laughing. Full rolling waves of laughter that made her whole body convulse with humor and ended in deep gasping breaths. “What?” The princess shrieked, but it sounded more delighted than angry.

“It's true,” Elsa's tone was almost defensive.

“No, no,” Anna waved a hand impatiently, “I believe you, it's just . . . really? Hans?”

Elsa hummed noncommittally, strangely annoyed by Anna's dismissive behavior.

“How long has this been going on?”

“About a year.”

“And are you . . . ?” Anna trailed off awkwardly, her lips moving but no sound coming out.

“Am I what?” Elsa was genuinely confused.

“Are you two like . . .” Anna couldn't bring herself to say it, but Elsa had finally caught her meaning.

“What? No. No, we are not.”

“Well, I don't see you writing letters to any other other young men!” Anna fluttered her eyelashes coyly and though Elsa knew the princess was only teasing she had a good point. A point to which the Snow Queen had very little defense.

“They're just letters,” she said and then, because that sounded weak even to her ears, “We're just friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes.”

“You're friends with Hans?”

“Yes?”

Anna shrugged, “It's a strange world, after all.”

xxxxx

_Queen Elsa -_

_I received you invitation today and made a grand show of opening it in front of her majesty and several of my older brothers. I'm sure you would have found my actions absolutely exasperating, but the family was perfectly scandalized, I assure you. I think the whole thing was rather well-played on my part and I thank you for addressing the letter directly. The men-folk are confused and jealous while mother suspects me of some great plot against her which, while not entirely unwarranted, doesn't seem fair. As though I'm not allowed to have powerful friends in high places without her knowing. I suppose it's an affront to her sense of superiority._

_I've already sent my RSVP, though I imagine that it has been regulated to some staff in charge of seating arrangements._

_Now that I know a little of your reservations towards dancing, and I think it must be argued that dancing with a mannequin hardly counts, I have to wonder at your reasoning. After all, whether you dance or not, people will always note your every motion and judge your every misstep. This is what it means to royalty. But being that you are a queen you are above their judgements and beyond their petty jealousies because you shoulder a weight they could not hope to bear: the hopes and aspirations of a nation._

_I look forward to seeing you again soon. Even pirates couldn't keep me from you._

_Prince Hans_

_P.S. Try not to worry too much; most pirates are a cowardly lot and those that aren't tend to be remarkably bad swordsmen._

xxxxx

“Would her majesty like to dance?”

Elsa hid her disappointment as best she could when yet another hopeful well-meaning young man who was decidedly not the one she was waiting for appeared. He was tall and handsome, if one preferred blonds. Elsa wasn't sure she did.

“I'm sorry, I don't really dance, but it is kind of you to offer.” The man faltered, not having prepared himself for small-talk, and gave her an awkward smile and shallow bow before taking his leave.

The Snow Queen sighed . All through dinner she had looked for him, stealing furtive glances around the room in between conversing with Anna, who was sitting to her right. The chair to her left remained conspicuously empty throughout the meal and she had little doubt as to whom it had been assigned. Privately, she both celebrated and lamented Kai's intuition.

“Would your majesty,” she knew his voice and was half-turned toward its source before he finished the question, “care to dance?”

“Hans,” she breathed the word as though it would sustain her. He was obviously surprised and pleased by the unadulterated happiness that radiated about her and Elsa quickly schooled her features as she took him in. In spite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but notice how absolutely tired he looked. Even his clothes seemed weary of him. “What happened to you?”

He smiled and shrugged non-nonchalantly. “There were pirates.”

“I thought you said there wouldn't be pirates.”

“I didn't say there wouldn't be pirates,” he was quick to correct her, “I said I wouldn't let them stop me from being here.”

“That's not what you said,” she suddenly realized the many curious courtesans listening in on their conversation and was flustered once again, “I mean, not exactly.” She wondered idly if babbling when nervous was a family trait or simply and bad habit, “Would his highness care to see the gardens?” She had to get away from all these prying eyes and ears, regardless of what it might mean for her reputation.

Hans grinned in earnest now, “Of course, your majesty. I'm sure they are lovely.”

xxxxx

Later, the local gossip wouldn't remember who the queen turned down for dancing, though the obvious answer was 'everyone', or how many times the princess' boyfriend had to tear her away from the chocolate fondue fountain. They would remember the moment the ever-recalcitrant Queen of Arendelle left her own party with the Prince of the Southern Isles.

xxxxx

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds those of the buzzing of insects and the soft strains of the orchestra carrying out into the still night air. Once in a while they would pass an alcove designed for resting and ornamentation. From the darkness of more than few the suspicious sounds of couples otherwise occupied carried out onto the path. The mere knowledge of their existence made Elsa blush, though if pressed she wouldn't have been able to explain exactly why. It wasn't as though she were ignorant to the activities that took place between consenting adults.

In spite her inexplicable embarrassment, a recurrent theme of the evening, she felt relatively peaceful. A strange sort of calm buoyed by the fact that she had done something improper – some might even consider scandalous – and nothing bad had happened. When she walked out the door, Hans in her wake, the world hadn't ended. Hell, the party hadn't even ended, if the crescendo of the string section was to be believed. Perhaps Hans was right, loath as she was to admit it. People would always judge her; she might as well have them do so on her terms.

Hans came to an abrupt halt and Elsa found herself stopping to meet him in kind. No matter how worn he seemed around the edges, there was an intensity about her one-time enemy turned ally that never failed to set her on-edge. It was perhaps one of her favorite qualities of their interactions; the way he made her feel so absolutely present, fully dedicated to every instant lest she miss some subtle cue.

“Elsa,” she wanted to berate him for using her given name, but the moment was so serene she feared shattering the illusion of stillness, “there is something I've been meaning to tell you.” He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so absolutely simple and innocuous she intrinsically knew he had practiced it in the mirror so many times in his youth it had almost become second nature. She idly wondered how much of his life he had wasted trying to learn to look perfect and, in turn, be so? In that, at least, they were the same. So lost in thought was she, the Snow Queen almost missed his next words, “A letter didn't seem to suffice and I -”

Suddenly, almost irrationally, she was afraid she had lied to Anna. They weren't 'just letters' and he wasn't just her friend, though she would be hard-pressed to define their relationship exactly, and he was going to ruin everything if he dared mention any of it. “Hans,” she wasn't sure if she was pleading or commanding him to cease his confession, but she knew if she allowed him to continue they might both regret it.

But he didn't head her words, no matter what their intention had been. Before she could stop him, before she could decide if she really wanted to, he was on his knees in front of her, her hand held in his. “Your majesty, Queen Elsa,” 'Hans, don't,' she mouthed the words but could not bring herself to speak, “I'm sorry.”

Time began anew. “What?” She hadn't realized she had stopped breathing until the first deep heavy sigh left her, “What did you say?”

The Southern Prince stood to his full height, well within her personal space, and still holding her hand, light enough that she could pull away if she wished. She did not. “I'm so sorry,” he repeated himself for both of their sakes, “What I did,” then he stopped strangely unsure of himself and when he started again his tone was wholly changed. He seemed utterly lost, a ship without port. “What I did to her,” Elsa was eternally grateful he did not specify who, lest the spell be broken, “what I did to you,” his emphasis on the words confused and flustered her in unfamiliar, but not wholly unlikable ways, “it was deplorable, unforgivable -”

“Hans,” she found the strength to speak at last, “I forgive you.”

xxxxx

“Would her majesty care to dance?” She smiled and laughed easily, turning to meet his open arms and expectant smirk with a coy grin of her own.

“Hans, you know I don't dance.”

“I know,” the prince was utterly unfazed by her gentle and familiar rebuke, “but I was hoping you might indulge me just this once. It is my birthday, after all.”

Elsa studied him carefully, considering how strange it was years after their initial confrontation to be standing by his side celebrating his birth. She vaguely wondered if she would have made the long arduous journey to the Southern Isles for anything less. “I didn't ask you to dance for my birthday.”

“That hardly seems fair considering I had already offered.”

“Your mother won't like it.” The long-suffering and oft-meddling monarch had marched a veritable parade of available women in front of her son, but he apparently only had eyes for his guest of honor.

“All the more reason,” he patiently offered her his hand, “though I must admit that wasn't a benefit I had considered.” When she hesitated a moment too long he prodded her further, “Come on, live dangerously for once in your life. There's no one here to judge you who matters anyway.”

She looked around as though checking for disapproving ne'er-do-wells, but in all honesty she was nervous, teetering on the edge of recklessness and abandon. “Except you.”

“I promise, I would never judge you.”

“Then I suppose one dance couldn't hurt.”

Hans chuckled as he led her onto the dance floor, eyes dancing with mirth as they were swept up in the song. “That's the spirit.”

xxxxx

_Hans -_

_Sorry I haven't written you sooner; this was the first ship that would agree to take my message and now I'm in a bit of a hurry. I can't believe it's already been four months since I saw you last. That being said; I can't believe it's only been four months when it seems like so much longer! Winter drags on as ever in Arendelle. You would think ice magic would help, yet I find it's best to let nature take her course in these matters. Sorceress I may be, but even I dare not tempt the powers of earth and stone and wind._

_I find myself thinking about dancing and how I wanted to admit it wasn't so terrible, though your mother spoiled the opportunity to tell you so at the time. I swear, that woman would hate me even without the complicated past between our nations, to put it politely. Alas, perhaps haste has made me too honest._

_Come spring, you are more than welcome to visit as soon as the thaw allows! Please, do consider it._

_Elsa_

xxxxx

_Elsa -_

_I'm on my way._

_Hans_

xxxxx

“Hans,” she ran her tongue over her teeth in annoyance, “you're drunk.”

He smiled, twisted and self-deprecating; the smirk of a man resigned to his fate. “I'm not drunk, I'm just not entirely sober."

She sighed, long and suffering, “I don't know why I put up with you.”

“Because you love me,” His words were so honest, so raw, so self-aware she wanted to take it all back; all of the little moments between them up until that very second, down the the last letter. Her entire body froze in place, every line and hair, more fixed and solid than even her magic could conjure or cast.

“Don't,” it was more of a threat than a warning, her voice as hard as steel, “Don't say that. Don't you dare say that.”

“Don't I dare?” He repeated her words with a certain amount of dark-humor, twisting and turning the phrase to his liking, “Don't I dare say what, Elsa? The truth?”

“You're don't know what you're talking about.” Her every muscle was tense and poised for action, her breath came in short shallow gasps leaving her ready for fight or flight. She paced restlessly like a lioness caged between him and the fireplace, the lighting casting her silhouette harsh and lean. Her hands clenched restlessly at her side, aching to bury themselves in the cold promise of the unvoiced laughter hidden in his throat.

The Southern Prince sat in perfect contrast to her agitation, lounging languidly, sprawled across the small couch as though he owned it, calm and relaxed as a summer's day. “Maybe you're right; maybe I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe you don't love me, after all,” her heart clenched painfully at that, though her face betrayed no outward emotion, “but you're certainly not indifferent.”

“Oh?” Vaguely, as though from a very long way off, from the middle of a glacier where her cries for help could not be heard, she watched herself pick at him like ax to ice, “I didn't realize my annoyance and aggravation were such bold statements of love.” This seemed to hit the mark, at last, as his entire demeanor darkened.

“Annoyance? Aggravation?” He glared at her from under a heavy brow, “You certainly could have fooled me.”

“Not as well as you've fooled yourself if you think I could ever feel anything more for you than contempt colored by seriously misplaced pity.”

Before she could blink he was one his feet, crowding her with his body, perhaps trying to intimidate her with his overwhelming presence. However, his nearness did little to abate her restless nature, rather her every sense seemed that much more aroused by his closeness. From her vantage she could make out the distinct flecks of gold that surrounded his dilated pupils in an otherwise endless green expanse.

“You don't mean that,” he accused her, but it seemed his anger had dissipated with proximity only to be replaced by a quiet intensity that stilled the nervous fluttering of her hands.

“I do,” her voice was hush, on the verge of a whisper and without thinking about it she ran her tongue across her bottom lip to wet it and was shocked when his eyes followed the motion.

“You're going to regret this moment,” he warned, but they both knew it was too late. Their many regrets had passed long ago, leaving stubborn ghosts and the empty husk of what could have been in their wake.

“I already do,” she admitted without an ounce of guilt. And then she kissed him, long and hard, with a little tongue and a lot of teeth. She wanted to crawl inside him and live next to his heart. Safe and loved and utterly impossible. Elsa pulled away, the moment gone and quickly as it had come. And then she reminded him, cruelly and without remorse, “You can't have everything you want, Hans.”

And she wouldn't let herself have anything she wanted, at all.

xxxxx

Neither of them can bring themselves to write the other for almost six months. Out of hurt. Out of pride. When they finally do, they miss one another's trajectory entirely.

For Elsa, it's the loneliest season in a lifetime marked by isolation.

xxxxx

“Jeez Louise, Elsa, this is getting a little ridiculous!”

The Snow Queen is genuinely confused by her sister's sudden outburst, “I'm sorry?”

“I'm pretty sure that's like the twenty-third suitor you've sent packing.”

“Twenty-third? Have you been counting? Surely there hasn't been that many.” Elsa doesn't even bother to check the math, already bored with the conversation, afraid it might lead down a path she would rather not travel.

“Twenty-third!” Anna reiterated impatiently, “I won't bother to name them all. It's not like you'd remember any of them anyway, as quick as you have them out the door.”

“Well, I'm sure they were unsuitable in some manner or another or they'd still be here.”

“Yeah right! Prince Perfect from the kingdom of Happily-Ever-After could walk in right now and you'd have him gone by the end of the afternoon.”

“I very much doubt there is a kingdom of Happily-Ever-After.”

“Elsa!” Anna was absolutely exasperated at this point, tired of trying to get her sister to talk about her feelings the easy way. It was time for some tough love. “Will you just admit you miss him already?!”

“Miss who?”

xxxxx

_Hans -_

_I miss you._

_Elsa_

xxxxx

_HRM Queen Elsa of Arendelle -_

_You are cordially invited to the engagement party of ADM Prince Hans of the Southern Isles to Her Lady Rosemarie of Blummund. Formal attire is required._

_HRM Queen Brigette of the Southern Isles_

xxxxx

It is all of ten minutes after Elsa receives the invitation that she boards her royal vessel, set on a specific and non-negotiable course.

xxxxx

_Elsa -_

_I miss you, too._

_Hans_

xxxxx

When she arrives in the Southern Isles, no one is more surprised than Elsa. She finds Hans at a late lunch with his mother and a few of his brothers. When she is finally announced she is out of breath and flush in the cheeks from running from the harbor to the gates. There is no fiancée, not a single woman present, save the queen herself, seven years widowed that spring. Elsa has to catch her breath before she speaks, “I heard you were engaged.”

There is little doubt as to whom she is speaking, yet Hans still looks between her and his mother as though they share some great secret they have yet to reveal. “Not that I am aware of.” Ever flippant, hiding behind his smooth words and callous nature, she wonders if they will ever be able to be honest with one another.

Under the weight of his mother's knowing smirk and the curious judgemental eyes of the brothers that were there to bear witness to the spectacle, Elsa realized she would have to prove herself worthy of his honesty; this strange man so used to talking in half-truths and manipulations. She would have to worry less about what others thought of her and more of what she thought of herself, “Would you like to be?”

xxxxx

 

 

 

 

 

end persistence.

 

 


End file.
